


Evening Star

by HopeCoppice



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Image, Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Insecurity, M/M, Other, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26778358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice
Summary: Aziraphale seems reluctant to join Crowley in bed, and Crowley is determined to get to the bottom of it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 145





	Evening Star

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Morning Glory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20058973) by [HopeCoppice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice). 



> Yes, a fic inspired by one of my own fics. I've always felt that Morning Glory ought to have a companion piece, so here it is. The two don't exist in the same universe, though.
> 
> Just a reminder that this fic contains some body image issues on Aziraphale's part, and there's also a brief mention of miracle use to cause someone to sleep.
> 
> Enjoy!

It's very, very late at night as Crowley stares up at Aziraphale's bedroom ceiling. He's been there for a couple of hours, actually, waiting for Aziraphale to join him. They've been sharing a bed for almost a week now, and Crowley has yet to have the opportunity to fall asleep in Aziraphale's arms. There's always a few more pages to read, a mug to wash up, _no really Crowley do go up and get comfortable, I'll be right behind you._

Tonight, Crowley has resisted three sudden and powerful urges to sleep, and still Aziraphale has not appeared. He sighs heavily and gets up; they can't go on like this forever, after all. He's hardly even surprised, when he reaches the ground floor of the bookshop, to see Aziraphale sitting in his armchair, wringing his hands. Worried.

"Angel," he begins gently, and Aziraphale jumps as if he's fired a pistol into the air. "Angel, if you don't want to sleep, that's OK. Or if you don't want to share the bed - I can go home, it's no trouble."

"No, no, you're more than welcome… and I _am_ tired, since Armageddon…"

"Then-"

"Really, Crowley, I'll be right up."

"What, as soon as you've miracled me to sleep?"

Aziraphale's face falls, and Crowley hastens to soften the blow.

"I didn't even notice, the first couple of nights. Felt a bit guilty, actually, for not waiting for you. But look at you, you're tying yourself in knots. What's wrong?" But the angel only hangs his head, until Crowley kneels before him to meet his eyes. "Angel, if it's… if it's because you think I expect something… I don't. I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to-"

"But I _do!"_ It doesn't seem as though Aziraphale means to say it; once the words are out he blushes furiously, but he stumbles on. "I mean, if _you_ do, I'd like- I would very much like to explore that possibility. But-"

Aziraphale falls silent, and Crowley scrambles to catch up with him. But if Aziraphale isn't avoiding the possibility of Crowley making a move on him, Crowley's not certain why Aziraphale won't come to bed until he's asleep.

"I'm sorry, angel, I don't-"

Aziraphale's face falls, and he begins spluttering, cheeks pink. "No, that's all right, I know I don't exactly inspire lust-"

"I don't _understand,"_ Crowley finishes firmly, and then, "wait, don't inspire lust? What are you talking about?"

"My corporation. I realise it's not- it's not exactly in fighting shape. Not exactly attractive."

"Aziraphale- angel- that is the most incredible nonsense- is _that_ why you've been avoiding me at bedtime?"

"I-" Aziraphale seems to deflate. "I didn't want you to see me."

"Angel. Aziraphale, my angel, love of my life, did it ever occur to you to just ask me not to look?"

There's a long pause. Apparently, it didn't.

"Would you- would you mind?"

"Well, yes, a little bit." Crowley reaches out to touch Aziraphale's cheek, to stop him from casting his gaze down to the floor. "Because I love you, and that includes the way you look. Surely you've noticed, over the centuries. I can hardly take my eyes off you. But if you don't want me to see you get changed, I won't look. Or you could change in the bathroom, you know."

"Oh. Oh, yes, I suppose I could." Aziraphale sighs. "I've been a bit silly, haven't I?"

"A bit," Crowley teases, "so it's a good thing you're gorgeous, really."

Aziraphale makes a choked, uncomfortable sort of sound at that, and Crowley wonders if he's said the wrong thing. If Aziraphale thinks he's making fun of him. But then the angel sighs.

"You might not say that, when you see me without all these clothes on."

"Hm. I'm pretty sure I will."

"Would you… that is… can we try it?"

That's a baffling change in direction.

"You… want me to look?"

"I want… well. If you're repulsed by me, I suppose it would be better to know now."

"Angel-"

"Unless- unless you don't want to."

"Of course I- sweet S- G- _Somebody,_ angel, you rolled up your _sleeves_ the other day and I nearly passed out. But I don't want you to be uncomfortable. Just… just please come to bed."

They go upstairs together, and Crowley gets under the covers while Aziraphale hovers awkwardly by the door. Crowley doesn't give him too long to work himself into a panic.

"Angel, I'm going to roll over and close my eyes. If you want to get into some pyjamas and join me, that's all right. Or… if you don't want to join me, that's all right too."

"No, I do, I just… oh, dear. I think I'd just feel silly taking my clothes off with you watching. Like some sort of mediocre burlesque act."

"Nothing about you is mediocre," Crowley says, and rolls over to face away from him, eyes scrunched shut. "Just let me know when I can open my eyes. Whenever you like."

Aziraphale doesn't make a sound for what feels like a very long time, and then Crowley hears the subtle whisper of fabric shifting, the old floorboards creaking as Aziraphale sets his clothing carefully aside, item by item. Crowley can almost picture it, Aziraphale taking the time to fold each garment neatly. A drawer opens, then closes with a little more force than seems necessary. Aziraphale sighs.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be, my dear. You may look."

"Sure, angel?"

"Yes."

Crowley rolls over slowly, giving Aziraphale one last chance to back down… and then he opens his eyes. Aziraphale is standing there, naked as the day he was created, holding a flannel nightshirt in front of himself at waist height and blushing furiously.

"Angel," Crowley breathes, eyes roaming across newly-revealed skin. He takes in the softly-curled hair that covers his chest, the gentle curve of his stomach, the enticing roundness of his hips. He can't seem to stop drinking in the sight of Aziraphale for long enough to complete a thought; the angel shifts uncomfortably.

"I did warn you. I'm not exactly-"

 _"Beautiful."_ The word leaves him on a shaky breath, and he can't seem to stop. "Nothing in all of creation has ever been so perfect."

"Crowley, there's no need to-" But he falls silent as Crowley swings his legs out of bed and takes a couple of steps towards him, feeling altogether less steady on his feet than he should.

"You're… bless it, Aziraphale, how can you not know?"

"I'm not- I- you really aren't making fun of me?"

"I'm really not. Can I touch?"

"Er- where- that is, yes, I-"

Crowley reaches out to touch his cheek, to trace reverent fingers down his neck and over his shoulders. He allows his hand to dip lower, down Aziraphale's chest, to the soft skin of his belly- Aziraphale flinches and Crowley removes his hand, worried. 

"What's wrong, did I hurt you, are you hurt?"

"No. No! You just- I know- Gabriel told me to lose the gut, but I-"

"Gabriel can go-" his words are cut off as he brushes his lips against Aziraphale's bare shoulder, his neck, the soft, pale hairs of his chest. "I love you."

"Well, yes," Aziraphale says, "despite my corporation-"

 _"Including_ your corporation," Crowley corrects him firmly, "all of it. Every inch."

He's half-expecting Aziraphale to point out that he hasn't _seen_ every inch of his corporation yet, and he's quite prepared to remind him that that isn't a problem, that they can go at Aziraphale's pace. That Crowley won't go too fast for him. What he _isn't_ expecting was for Aziraphale to abruptly throw aside the nightgown he's been clutching in front of him so that he can wrap his arms around Crowley and kiss him.

It takes Crowley a few stunned seconds to realise what that means for Aziraphale's state of undress, and when he does, he doesn't know what to do with himself. Aziraphale breaks the kiss to whisper in his ear, and all the words he wants to say become meaningless jumbles of consonants before he begins to strip off his own silk pyjamas, Aziraphale helping and hindering all the way. They tumble into bed together as if they've been doing it for years, and neither of them sleep at all.

It's so late at night that it should probably be more accurately described as early morning when Crowley tears his eyes away from Aziraphale's and hungrily looks him up and down. Aziraphale squirms under the renewed scrutiny, but Crowley is on a mission.

"Whatever Gabriel said, forget it." Aziraphale doesn't look entirely reassured, so Crowley takes that as his cue to start kissing his way down his body. "You are magnificent," he hisses, as he moves down Aziraphale's chest, "beautiful," he hums as he noses along the angel's side, "delicious," he nips playfully at a hip, "and _perfect."_ He comes to rest with his head gently cushioned on Aziraphale's stomach, pressing gentle kisses to his angel's skin until his nervous quivering subsides. _"Perfect,_ angel," he repeats, just to make sure he's understood, "I'll tell you every day until you believe it."

"You really will, won't you?" Aziraphale sounds awestruck, as if Crowley is doing so much more than simply tell him the truth.

"Oh, yes. You'll be stuck hearing about yourself for _eternity."_

Aziraphale whacks him with a pillow for that, but he's smiling, and Crowley vows to himself that he will keep that promise for as long as Aziraphale needs to be reminded, and longer. He will tell Aziraphale how beautiful he is for eternity, and hopefully one day Aziraphale will finally believe it.


End file.
